


Day 9: Christmas (un)Wrapping

by ginchy



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: 12 Days of Turnadette Smutmas, F/M, christmas fluff and love, if the bus is a-rockin’, series 9 CS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28186620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginchy/pseuds/ginchy
Summary: Written for the 12 Days of Turnadette Smutmas.  During the series 9 CS, Shelagh and Patrick find some much needed alone time during a trip into town.
Relationships: Bernadette | Shelagh Turner/Patrick Turner
Comments: 13
Kudos: 22
Collections: Twelve Days of Turnadette Smutmas





	Day 9: Christmas (un)Wrapping

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the wonderful ladies who organized this Smutmas event! 💚❤️ And thank you, as always, to the lovely Fourteen Teacups and WednesdayGilfillian for the beta!! 💕💙💕

“We really shouldn’t use the bus for these…” Shelagh trailed off in a moan as her husband's lips gently moved down her neck. She clenched her fingers into the wool of his jumper. “...purposes,” she continued, as he pulled away to look at her.

He touched her swollen lips with a light finger. “As I recall, Mrs. Turner, two nights ago you whispered into my ear that you were ready to return home, to our own bed.” 

“Our bed, yes,” she said, cheeks flush as she shifted on his lap to press tighter against him. “Not our only means of transportation.” Emboldened by having him so close, she began to nibble at his jaw. 

“We’ve picked up our last dosages of medication and supplies. We’re not expected for hours,” he pointed out, tilting his neck as she continued her tiny line of kisses. 

“Hours?” Her voice was barely a whisper against his ear as she spoke. His shudder and the jump of his hips made her moan. Before coming to the Outer Hebrides they had been down with the flu. After finding their footing once more following their conversation on the beach, they both wanted, needed, time alone to reconnect. And so when one last shipment of drugs had been delivered to the village, Shelagh volunteered herself and Patrick to fetch them. 

With a gleam in his eye, Patrick had parked the bus in the sunshine, ostensibly to warm it for their long trip. Shelagh surreptitiously placed her thermals into her handbag, keeping her layers simple enough for possible removal. The trip had been one full of anticipation, their task completed quickly. A rock outcropping provided privacy and a view for miles, but greedy hands and mouths cared only for the familiar, but still enticing, view right in front of them.

“Oh, hours at least,” he murmured, working his hands underneath her jumper. “Mrs. Turner, it seems you’ve quite forgotten your underthings…” His palms slid up her back before trailing to her front, cupping her breasts and gently playing with her nipples. 

“I’m of the view that less can be more.” Her voice was prim even as she squirmed in pleasure at his plucking fingers. Her cheeks flushed a deeper red. “I removed it whilst you were still in the chemist.”

“So honest,” he groaned, pulling the jumper over her head. “So beautiful,” he added, pressing her forward and upward toward his mouth. 

They’d snogged a bit in the MG, back in the early days of their marriage when everything had been so new and there had been more time for such activities. Now, the forbidden feel of their actions, and their hidden location, spurred Shelagh to moan and gasp in a way she generally had to keep quiet. Her husband responded, sucking and biting at her sensitive breasts until she clutched his head and brought his mouth to hers, rocking her hips against him.

Their lips met and parted, slick with his saliva. Ravenous for his taste, Shelagh sucked at his tongue. He seemed to give in to her need, letting her control their pace as she pressed against his jumper to tease her breasts. He growled and groaned as she kissed her way to his neck, nipping and soothing the delicate, warm skin. 

“Shelagh…”

She whimpered at the sound of her name, so gravelly and full of need. His large hands found her hips, positioning her to rub her heat over his hardness. She gasped and keened as he easily found a rhythm that brought her pleasure, and though she knew he could continue his play and bring her to a shuddering orgasm, she pulled back, sucking in deep, ragged breaths. 

His own breath was uneven, face covered in a sheen of sweat. He unbuckled his belt as she stood on shaky legs to remove her stockings and shoes. Taking himself in hand, he pumped at his shaft as he watched her. The pounding clench between her legs grew as she watched him touch himself. His eyes were heavy-lidded as he continued, but he shifted his glance to the bench that he sat on. “Too narrow?” he asked, indicating the seat. She’d laid flannels over the bench seats and he placed his hand down onto the fabric as if in invitation.

“I quite liked the way things were progressing before,” she said, carefully easing back onto his lap. His hands grasped her hips, but didn’t force her forward. She was content to look down at him for a moment. His hair was windblown and messy from her fingers, his eyes heavy with lust and love. Even after so many years she still felt giddy over him, as if she still nursed her impossible crush. That he looked at her in the same way was not lost on her, and she took a moment to smooth her lips over his brow and nose before meeting his mouth.

“It’s been too long,” he murmured between kisses, sliding his hand between her legs to tease and touch. 

“Oh, please,” she stuttered as he pressed against her sensitive and delicate skin, allowing her to grind against his fingers. 

“Yes.” His voice was all gravel now, a moan escaping as he once more took her hips to help her to settle onto him. 

It was silent in the old bus for a moment as they connected, the joy of being alone together an unexpected gift. And then the sounds of pleasure and soft murmurs erupted as they strained together, each seeking that moment of overwhelming bliss. 

She was full with him, and she reveled in it, and in their stolen tryst, crying out with her completion as it fell over her in a sudden wash of electric pleasure. 

Patrick grunted her name and followed her into ecstasy, holding her as she fell against him. Her breath was harsh as she snuggled into his neck for just a moment, before awkwardly dismounting to sit across his lap to save her legs from strain. 

Leaning against the seat back, Patrick chuckled. “Our ride home will be full of pleasant memories,” he managed between breaths. “Hells bells, Shelagh.”

Shelagh blushed, but hid a smile. “I do hope I can sit across from our colleagues and contain my red cheeks!”

He nuzzled into her. “Our reputation is sterling. They’d never suspect that we stopped off for a little early Christmas unwrapping.”

Unable to contain a giggle, Shelagh gave into it and hugged him close, an afternoon alone with her husband the best gift she could ever receive.  
  



End file.
